


Cherry Blossoms like Blood

by clxude



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mulan (1998) Fusion, Brief transphobia, Confessions, Getting Together, I have no idea, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Trans Character, Trans Hinata Shouyou, accidental transphobia, just to be clear no one in the ship dies, where did that ship come from
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7909819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clxude/pseuds/clxude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts as an idea - run away, be the prince who saves the kingdom, maybe die violently in the process.<br/>It doesn't quite work out like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> I really didn't think I would break 10k but I did it. Thank you to my beta (jhey0aira) for telling me this ship was okay even though it was originally supposed kagehina, and wanting to fight kageyama for me. 
> 
> oh and I should probably mention this, but I'm not personally trans, but am enby and go through gender dysphoria, but if you are trans and anything sticks out and bothers you, don't be afraid to say something in the comments or tell me on tumblr!! (mother-iwa-chan) (might change to claudey-boy soon tho) (i'll say on my blog if I do don't worry)

 

… 

 

Snow is falling heavily, up in the mountains. It coats everything - the horses, the tents, the cliffsides - and weighs everything down in equal measure. It’s still fresh and pristine, a few hours past the last storm. Few journey this far into the pass, and even fewer still leave it. 

 

Oikawa watches all of this from atop his massive black horse, towering above all of his men. Furs keep him warm, and stop the claws of his falcon from cutting into flesh when it swoops low to land on his forearm. A message is fastened to the bird’s leg, tied with a length of leather. Oikawa unravels the message quickly, smiling when he sees it is from his lieutenant. Matsukawa, in charge of the Southern Legion, was awaiting his signal to launch an attack.

 

“Hanamaki!” Oikawa calls over his shoulder. “How far are we from the Northern Legion?”

 

“Only a few hours. Four, maybe five.”

 

“Good,” Oikawa smirks as he replies, looking out over the mountain side. Hundreds of fires burn, showing just how great the Seijoh Army is. “I want to be there for the attack. I want them to realize just how weak their wall is.”

 

…

 

He stands atop the wall, watching, always watching. It’s snowing, but not hard enough to stick - spring is too close. He grew up in these mountains; the slight chill in the wind no longer bothers him. But, he’s tired,  _ so tired.  _ He’s been guarding this part of the wall for hours, standing here, never moving. 

 

It’s a good job, one that makes his family proud. When the captain came to his family’s farm and told them their eldest son had been selected to guard a stretch of the wall five hundred miles away, his aunts had thrown a party. “ _ A good job,”  _ they had said.  _ “You will bring honor and prestige to us yet.” _

 

He knows this is an honor, the first line of defense against the Seijoh Empire. He would die for the young Emperor, and if he was lucky enough to survive Emperor Takeda, he would be willing die for his successor as well. 

 

But now, he thinks less of honor, and more of the snow slipping between clothing and skin. It hadn’t been this cold when he had arrived from his village. Flowers had been blooming on these grassy slopes, children could be spotted playing in distant fields. Now, all he can see for miles is white, not a speck of green in sight.

 

Out of the corner, he sees something move. It could be anything: a bird, one of the flags lining the wall, a shift change at the next surveillance tower. Suddenly, he’s being dragged backward. He is flipped around, and his upper body is shoved against the stone of the wall. Oxygen flees from his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath. A knife is pressed to his throat.

 

“Hello, there,” whispers the man restraining him. His breath is warm on the guard’s ear. “Talk and I’ll have to cut out that tongue of yours.”

 

He smiles, his training kicking in. Handle it like a drill, and he’ll survive this encounter. He doesn’t need to speak to slip his dagger out of his coat sleeve, or to shove it through the heavy furs the Seijoh is wearing and into his stomach. The man gasps, coughs once. Blood dribbles down his bottom lip. 

 

The guard drops the body quickly, and runs for the alarm bell. Along the sides of the wall, grappling hooks are latching on. He just barely manages to ring the bell before he feels something slide into his back.

 

As his eyes grow heavy and his limbs weak, warm blood oozing down his back, he mumbles out, “Everyone in Miyagi will soon know you’re coming. You can’t win.”

 

Someone steps in front of him, laughing as they remove their hood. This reveals a brunette man, scars riddling his face. “No, that’s where you are wrong. I’ll never lose, not to the likes of your  _ ‘country _ . _ ’ _ This wall is your only defense, and it looks like I’ve already defeated it. It was a nice try, though.”

 

He turns away, smiling, facing his army. “Leave him to bleed out. We have better things to do.”

 

…

 

Hisho watches the moon rise. A blanket is wrapped around her shoulders. Kenma is sleeping at her feet, snoring softly. The yellow dog has chicken feed stuck in his fur, but Hisho is too tired to remove it now, and waking a sleeping Kenma has never been his idea of fun.

 

Hisho shivers; the wind is brisk, even if it is not truly cold. She’s not quite sure what she’s doing out here, bare toes just barely touching the edge of the fish pond, naked beneath her blanket. It’s late, that time when it’s no longer night, but the sun is still  hours from the horizon.

 

Hisho is never quite sure what she is doing.

 

She drops the blanket to the ground. The moon was in its first quarter tonight, leaving little light. Hisho could have brought a lantern, should have, probably, but she knew the light could have attracted attention from her mother and grandparents.

 

The water is cold as it surrounds her, like ice filling her every pore. She sinks down low enough that the water goes up to her jaw, covering her almost completely. Her body feels neutral, simply existing in a state of rest, nothing more than muscle and bone.

 

She feels nothing, sees nothing, and she is at peace.

 

…

 

Hisho’s mother wakes her early in the morning.

 

“It’s time to wake up, dear,” she whispers underneath the rising sun. “We need to prepare you for the matchmaker.” 

 

Hisho, however, wants nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep, even as her mother drags her from her bedroll and into the kitchen, where the bathing tub sits. She’s shoved into the water once her sleep shift has been removed. Almost instantly, a water jug is dumped on her head, living the scant few inches of skin not previously damp now soaking wet.

 

An older woman, Setsuko, one of Hisho’s mother’s friends without any daughters to call her own, tuts as she touches a strand of Hisho’s hair. It’s understandable; the girl isn’t quite sure of the last time it was washed. She’s just been so  _ busy,  _ with the end of the harvest and training the newest litter of pups and avoiding being naked for any longer than necessary. 

 

“Do you think we have enough time to prepare her?” Hisako asks her friend as she begins to run a comb through Hisho’s hair. It snags on tangles  _ constantly;  _ Hisho bites back a wince. 

 

“We just might,” Setsuko replies as she attempts to scrub off the layers of mud and dirt that cake Hisho’s calves and knees. Her nails, although short from years spent in the fields, are sharp. They scratch Hisho’s skin until they nearly draw blood, instead leaving behind thin red scratches.

 

“Does the water really have to be this cold?” Hisho finally complains when a third bucket full of ice cold water is dumped on her head. She is shaking. Hisho could have sworn not a single inch of skin is left gooseflesh-less.

 

“If had gotten up early like I told you, this wouldn’t have been an issue.”

 

“Don’t patronize the poor girl, Hisako,” Setsuko tuts. “I remember how you acted when we were sent to the matchmaker. Oh, Hisho, your mother’s makeup was  _ such  _ a rush job, I’m surprised she even had on lipstick. And her shoes! She had to run to the - “

 

“That’s enough, Setsuko!” Hisho’s mother shrieks, slapping her palm over the other woman’s mouth, blushing violently. 

 

…

 

Hisho clenches her fists as she sits perfectly still. The sun is just beginning to shine through an open window, and its light is directly in her open eyes. Although she would love nothing more than to close them, the charcoal stick her mother is using to line her eyelids looks threatening enough to keep them open. She licks her lips, tasting the sulfuric hint of vermillion. It feels heavy on her mouth. She forces herself to ignore the urge to wipe it away, to smear it across her cheeks like blood.

 

“You look beautiful,” her mother whispers, just loud enough for her to be able to make out the words. “You’ll get a fine husband like this.”

 

Hisho smiles, fumbling with the carved wooden cat her grandfather gave her years ago - the wood no longer rough, worn down from years of handling - before tucking it back in the folds of the fabric of her belt. Surprisingly, the smile isn’t all that forced. She wants to make her mother proud, without a doubt. She would do anything for her family. She looks up in the mirror her mother holds before her, takes in her porcelain cheeks and ruby lips and sunflower hair. She wants to puke, wants to sink deep into the fish pond, wants to make her family proud, wants to bring honor to their door.

 

“It would be my honor,” she replies, finally.

 

She almost means it.

 

…

 

She’s floating through mist when she greets the matchmaker. 

 

She’s the first girl to go into the large shop in the center of town, far enough from the market to block the noise of shoppers, central enough to be the only one to stay in business for more than a month or two. The matchmaker herself - thin and small and  _ ancient -  _ welcomes Hisho in with a grin that looks rehearsed. Inside, the scent of incense fills the air.

 

Hisho pours tea, is careful to serve the perfect amount even though her hands tremble. The matchmaker hums once Hisho places the teapot on the table. They drink at the same time, and once their cups hit the table, the old woman’s smile looks genuine. 

 

After Hisho bows and before she sets through the doorway, the matchmaker grabs her elbow, effectively stopping her. “Without a doubt, you will make a fine bride some day.”

 

“That is all I wish to be,” Hisho replies quietly, ducking her head.

 

Her hands stop shaking once she’s out the door.

 

…

 

The bells at the southern gate begin to ring as Hisho walks home from the matchmaker. At first, she doesn’t know what they are, still too deep in the haze left by the old woman. She stops, glancing around. Many of the people on the street share equally confused looks. 

 

Soon, Hisho can hear another sound, like a drum beat, layering underneath the chimes of the bell. 

 

“Is that - “ she begins, but stops once an older man starts.

 

“Is it the imperial army?” he asks, and is met with quiet murmuring. “It sounds like horse hooves.” 

 

Hinata blinks herself out of her daze. “Army - ?”

 

Before she can glean any more information, Hisho finds herself sprinting through the crowds, rushing past people with little care. The army means war; war means recruitment; recruitment means men; men means - 

 

“Grandfather!” she shouts, once she bursts through the gate and into the courtyard. But, she sees no one, not Grandmother and Grandfather and Mother, just Kenma, sleeping at the base of a cherry tree. The last few spring blossoms cling to his fur. 

 

Hisho knows her grandfather can’t fight in a war, even if he is the only eligible man - the  _ only  _ man, since her father died years ago - in the family. War is hard on everyone; her grandfather, Asahi, isn’t the twenty year old he was when his knee was first injured. 

 

Clenching her teeth resolutely, Hisho runs back to the village square. The bare outline of what she suspects to be a frankly godawful plan is already forming in her mind, but she runs faster, harder, until she can hear the sound of horse hooves.

 

She bursts into the square through a side street, but stops when she sees Asahi being handed what she can only assume to be a conscription notice by a heavily armored man sitting atop a horse. He doesn’t have his cane, and his knees are shaking. Hisho desperately wants to help, even as he turns away and begins the long walk back home along the main road. Every step breaks her heart.

 

When the next man is called, young, mid-twenties, Hisho sends up a quick prayer for Asahi to return home whole. A few more men from the village are called, and soon, the legion is gone. Leaving, they’re not any quieter, but the noise filling Hisho’s head is louder, pounding like her heartbeat after running for miles. 

 

She walks home slowly; clouds fill the sky overhead. Her plan fills in even more. Placing her hands on the door of the gate, she stares upwards.

 

“I will protect you,” she says, “Even if I end up dead. I won’t let you do this alone.”

 

She does not open the gate until the first drops of rain have fallen on her upturned face.

 

…

 

The rain never falls hard, but it never seems to dissipate, either. She watches it from her bedroom window, where she can perfectly see the water droplets splatter on the surface of the fish pond. It’s becoming harder to see, with the sinking sun and thunderous clouds. But, it is too early for her to sleep now. There’s a letter in her grandfather’s room, and she can’t let it stay where it is. 

 

The longer she stands, watching the rain through the window, the harder it seems to fall. Soon, the water is falling on the roof too hard for her to distinguish any other noise. Eventually, the sun is completely gone, and the clouds have consumed any remaining light.

 

Somewhere, deep inside of her, Hisho knows the house is asleep. She sneaks out of her room, stepping lightly over the floorboards that squeak. Soon, her right hand grips the doorknob of her grandparents’ room while her left holds a flickering lantern. Even with the pounding rain, she can still make out of the sound of her grandfather’s loud snoring. It is a comforting, familiar sound. Hisho can already tell she’s going to miss it dearly.

 

She walks into the room barely breathing. The air feels overly stiff, like a mountain lion waiting to pounce the moment she missteps. Slowly, carefully, she switches the conscription notice for the wooden cat, and is gone in an instant. 

 

…

 

Soon, she finds herself in the garden shed. She’s standing beneath a leaking roof tile, staring at her grandfather’s old armor. Water drips from a lock of hair onto the tip of her nose, before sliding off slowly and landing on the hard packed dirt floor. 

 

At first, it’s hard for Hisho to put on the armor. It’s heavy and too large, sized for her broad-shouldered grandfather, back when he was a teenager. Hisho, however, has always had a slight frame, nowhere close to Asahi’s six feet. On top of that, many of the buckles have rusted together after years in storage, which won’t make wearing it any easier. 

 

She drops her sleepwear to the ground. It lands in a wet heap. Gathering her hair, she raises a kitchen knife and cuts almost all of it off, until it’s no longer than an inch in any one place and curls slightly against her skull. By the time she leaves the shed, her shoulders and ribs already hurt from her chest binding and the weight of the armor.

 

…

 

It seems to take hours to reach the horse stables, even though they are only twenty feet away through trees, the underbrush stomped down from years of travel. She rushes in, shakes her head to remove some of the water from her hair.

 

Tanaka, surprisingly enough, is still awake once she makes her way back to his stall. He whinnies once he sees her, clacking his teeth and licking her hands in search of a treat. She’s not surprised; she’s spoiled the stallion rotten.

 

“Sorry, Tanaka,” she whispers, scratching his ears. “We don’t have time tonight.” 

 

…

 

The night makes noises.

 

Loud ones, soft ones, ones that feel like fingernails dragging down Hisho’s spine. A few even sound like cats, the kind that stalk the mountains and mothers warn their children to run from. She tugs her sword - her  _ grandfather’s  _ sword - out of its  scabbard and grips the carved hilt a bit tighter. 

 

If she snaps Tanaka’s reigns to signal him to go faster, no one has to know.

 

…

 

She and Tanaka stumble through the trees, blinded by the onslaught of rain. It’s soaking her to the bone; dripping from her new haircut and into her eyes. She’s not quite sure where she’s going, only half remembers which village the basic training camp is near.

 

She just keeps riding. It’s her only option now, she can’t turn back. 

 

Maybe it’s the only one she’s ever had.

 

…

 

A few days later and a few hundred miles south, Hisho begins to hear the sounds of an army. She’s happy to almost be there, even is she’s also a bit terrified. 

 

Hisho is starving from days of quick travel and only eat eating plants she’s managed to forge along the way. Her skin is sticky with sweat, her head aching from starvation, dehydration, and sleep deprivation.

 

But they’re close. Hisho is as ready as she’ll ever be. 

 

… 

 

She only sleeps a few hours before she wakes. Something rests on her stomach, constricting her breathing, too low to be her linen binder. She’s frightened at first, after hearing enough warnings of the snakes that live in the patties and woods from her mother, but upon further inspection, it’s clear that the creature is actually a black cat.

 

Startled by her movements, the cat turns and looks at her. She shrieks when it bares its teeth.

 

“Did you  _ have  _ to wake me up?” 

 

Hisho’s jaw drops. “Did you just  _ speak?” _

 

The cat rolls its eyes. She hadn’t known that was anatomically possible. 

 

“Really? That’s what you’re complaining about right now?” The cat sits up, its claws digging into Hisho’s stomach slightly. “Can you  _ please  _ be quiet? I didn’t sign up for this, you weren’t supposed to sign up for this, and there are men with  _ very large swords  _ through those trees!” the cat whispers angrily, gesturing to its right with its paw.

 

“But you can - “

 

“Fine, yes, I can speak, Hisho. Your ancestors sent me to try to you not get yourself killed. Can we move on now?” The cat sighs. “You’ll die, the ancestors will blame me, and you’ll never reach your full potential.” 

 

“Can we talk about how you’re a talking cat? I really want to discuss that - “

 

“First of all, binding your chest and cutting your hair off isn’t foolproof,” it tuts. “Your voice is too high. Try to talk in a lower pitch, yeah?” 

 

She glares, but the effect is ruined by her violent blush. It was well known in her village that the pitch of her voice rises whenever she’s annoyed or angry; her neighbors’ sons used to play a game of who can make Hisho’s voice the highest.

 

The cat jumps off of her stomach, before jumping straight up in the air to land on Tanaka. The horse, just waking up, swishes his tail angrily. 

 

“And don’t walk so - daintily? Step with more force, like you’re on a mission. This isn’t your village, and you’re not Hisho anymore. These guys, they’re going to tear you apart without a second thought.

 

“Oh, and one more thing, Hisho. Drop the name. Change it to Koji? No, Izumi? Ah, how about Hinata?”

 

Hisho -  _ Hinata  _ \- frowns, but shakes  _ his  _ head. “That’s fine, I guess. But, what’s your name? You never told me.”

 

“It’s Kuroo. Now come on, Hinata, we have shit to do.”

 

_ “A talking cat,”  _ he grumbles, standing up to follow the damned cat.

…

 

_ “Hinata,”  _ he whispers under his breath, and tries to pretend that Kuroo isn’t watching him. “Your name is Hinata.”

 

The air feels a little warmer after that.

 

…

 

Hinata rides Tanaka into camp, Kuroo sitting on his shoulder. Kuroo hisses in his ear when they suddenly come to a stop. 

 

“I’m going to fall - what the hell, Hi - “

 

“Shut up,” Hinata whispers back, gripping the reigns nervously. A man stands at the makeshift gate. He’s watching Hinata, distrust obvious in his eyes. “For like five minutes, Kuroo, just shut up.”

 

“Fine,” the cat spits out, digging its claws in for a moment. “Just try not to get us killed, will you?”

 

Hinata tries not to wince, before standing up in the stirrups to dismount the horse. Kuroo settles down where he had been sitting. Suddenly, as he walks over to the man dressed all in red, his armor feels far too heavy and his skin too tight, like his chest binding covers every inch of skin and not just his breasts. Hinata can’t breathe; the oxygen is frozen, mist in his lungs as the man looks him up and down, tapping a brush against his clipboard. 

 

“Name?” His voice is too loud, in Hinata’s opinion, and too deep, like it’s trying to carve into Hinata’s bones.

 

Everything about this man is too much - from his dark eyebrows to his stare, the way he grits his teeth when Hinata fails to answer fast enough. His clothes are nice, embroidered cotton and lace trim, not a single hint of armor in sight. Administration work and nothing more, Hinata guesses they’ve seen exactly the same amount of combat.

 

“Azumane Hinata,” he replies, clenching his fist, trying to keep his voice in a low pitch.

 

“Asahi’s boy?” The man in red raises his eyebrows. They look like fuzzy caterpillars, slowly creeping across his face until they consume him whole. Hinata isn’t sure if he should be grossed out by the visual when he’s this close to laughter.

 

The man glares harder, and any laughter that might have come bubbling out is immediately dampened. But he’s okay, he’s going to be fine.

 

“Grandson.” Hinata feels the air return to his bloodstream, and, if only for that single instance, he is at peace.

 

“I didn’t know he had any.” The man marks something down on his clipboard. “Now, go set up your tent. You’re already late. The captain doesn’t approve of such behaviors.”

 

…

 

Hinata sets up his tent in the far corner of the encampment. Kuroo slinks past his legs once he tosses his pack and bedroll inside. 

 

The cat glares at Hinata when his helmet lands on its tail. 

 

Kuroo hisses and bares its teeth. “What was that for?!” 

 

“It’s hot,” Hinata replies quietly, before ducking back out of his tent, walking straight into someone. “Ah, sorry!”

 

A blonde man frowns, his dark eyes scrunched up. Hinata swallows nervously when he notices the throwing knives strapped to the man’s belt, eyes the harsh shaved lines in the blonde hair.

 

“Just watch where you’re going,” the blonde replies gruffly, before stalking into the tent across from Hinata’s.

 

“Don’t mind Kyoutani,” a brunette man tells him, slinging an arm on Hinata’s shoulder and leaning into it heavily. The man is taller than Hinata by at least thirty centimeters, and even with all of the armor he’s wearing, Hinata feels smaller than ever. “His village was nearly burned to the ground a few months back by Seijoh, so he’s still bitter. Apparently, a lot of his friends died in the attack, as well as his sister.”

 

“Oh.” Hinata wondered what is was like to come from a place that almost didn’t exist anymore. He can not imagine his home no longer by the stream, no longer existing; his room overlooking the fish pond being nothing more than a faint memory. It sounds like a nightmare, like a ghost controlling his thoughts as he sleeps, digging up his worst fears and bringing them to life inside his head.

 

It sounds terrifying.

 

“So, just go easy on him, okay?”

 

Hinata nods sharply. “Okay!”

 

He can do that. Hinata’s never gone hard on anyone, and if he ever does, the first time definitely won’t be with Kyoutani and his throwing knives.

 

The man smiles, says, “Good,” before walking away.

 

…

  
  
  


Training begins that afternoon, once every family’s son has arrived. Hinata was one of the last to show, and ends up at the end of the line. He doesn’t mind, he later decides, as he watches each person state their name, family, and village, one by one. Someone, a captain, maybe, watches everyone from the entrance of the command tent. He hears Kyoutani state his name and village in a tight voice, and the collective gasp that follows. No sympathy beyond that is shown, and Hinata isn’t quite sure why he expected it. 

 

A few men later, the tall brunette introduces himself as Daichi, and somehow, just knowing his man makes Hinata a little more comfortable in the camp, like he almost has a friend, even though they’ve yet to speak again since Daichi told him about Kyoutani.

 

“Name, family, and village,” Hinata hears the man from the gate repeat again for what feels the millionth time, but he doesn’t bother to look up to see whom he is talking to. 

 

Someone nudges him, and suddenly, Hinata realizes just how quiet it is. He looks up to see the man from the gate looming in front of him. He’s glaring at him, and so is everyone else in the line, and the captain at the command tent.

 

“Ah, sorry. Hinata, Azumane,  Diaowo.” 

 

The man sighs and moves down the line, but Hinata can still feel the captain glaring at him.

 

…

 

Once the man finished asking everyone their name and where they were from, he introduces himself as Washjio, personal assistant to Captain Kageyama, before ducking into the command tent. 

 

The captain watches all of them for a few minutes, and many of them watch right back. He’s wearing similar armor to the rest of them, save for the color - a deep red, with gold embellishments, while his troopers wore either green or blue. His black hair is cut messily above his eyes, which are a deep blue color. Hinata does his best to ignore him.

 

Finally, Kageyama turns away to face everyone.

 

“You all look completely useless,” he says, crossing his arms behind his back. “How am I supposed to defend the Emperor from Seijoh with a bunch like you?”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Hinata sees Kyoutani scowl. It is still hard for the ginger to image a world without his home in it.

 

“Ten laps around the outside of the camp. When you finish, line back up.” Once he finishes speaking, he walks back into the command tent.

 

Hinata sighs before beginning a slow jog to the gate. Many people pass him immediately, already used to the armor. Even those unaccustomed to the weight rush past. These men are used to hard work and exertion, something Hin -  _ Hisho’s -  _ mother never let her around. But, he’s Hinata, now, and he won’t consent to be left in the dust.

 

So, he runs a little fast, breathing shallowly from his chest bindings, but never stops moving. Soon, at some point halfway through his third lap, Daichi falls into step beside him. 

 

For the most part, they don’t speak. Daichi isn’t breathing as heavily as Hinata, but by no means is he having an easy time. But even with that, their feet move in tandem, left foot, right foot; left foot, right foot. The entire time, except for when he’s around the bend, Hinata keeps his eyes focused on the back of Kyoutani’s head. The blonde hair acts like a beacon in the distance, thirty feet out and motivating him without ceasing. 

 

He keeps running, even as his sides begin to feel like they’re being laced with razors, even as it feels like he has swallowed burning coals. Few parts of him are not in pain, from the tops of his shoulders where the straps of his breastplate dig in, to the soles of his feet where they constantly pound the ground. He is tired, and he may slow, but he never stops. 

 

Daichi falls back on the eighth lap. Hinata stops at first, turning to see what’s wrong. But, Daichi waves him on, even as he bends at the waist, struggling to bring in enough air.

 

So, he keeps running, breathing hard. He passes Kyoutani on the final lap, and feels like he’s flying as he sprints through the gate once he’s finished. He’s certainly not the first to line back up, but he’s far from the end where he started. 

 

Slowly, the rest of the troops filter in,lining up in long rows. There are two hundred of them, just shy of a full battalion. Hinata has a feeling it won’t be enough to stop Seijoh, even with proper training, even with the combined forces of the rest of the empire.

 

Kageyama exits the tent a few minutes after the last of the troops re-enter the compound. His helmet is tucked under his arm, glistening the sun as if it’s been freshly polished.

 

“Take off your armor. You all look like you’re going to pass out.”

 

Everyone rushes to comply, not even bothering to stack it neatly, just tossing it to their feet. Kageyama raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment.

 

“Three more laps, then take your shit back to your tents.” The troops let out a collective groan. “Lunch should be ready once you finish and wash up.”

 

…

 

Hinata stands on the bank of the stream, a bit unsure of himself. As soon as everyone had finished their third lap and dropped off their armor in their tents, they had sprinted to the water, suddenly full of energy.

 

Hinata had run after, careless and without thought, until he reached the water, greeted by the sight of everyone in various states of undress. And it’s not like he’s never seen a man naked before. Well, he  _ hasn’t,  _ but that’s not it. It’s the sudden realization that he has -  _ they don’t match.  _ Hinata isn’t sure how he didn’t realize before hand. But, now, when that’s all he can see, he knows that going in the water with everyone else isn’t - safe. 

 

He takes a few steps back, looking around for an escape. 

 

_ “Hinata.”  _

 

To the left, there’s tall grass, blowing slightly, even though Hinata can’t feel the wind on his skin. A few feet from the water, Kuroo’s face is popping out, teeth showing like it’s grinning. Without thinking, Hinata runs into the brush after it, oblivious to the sounds of confusion. He knows he can’t stay here, and whatever the rest of the army thinks is a million times better than what they could possibly know.

 

He follows Kuroo to a pond far enough away from the others, until he can no longer hear them splashing around in the stream. This water is still, like ice, or glass. Cherry trees surround the pond thickly, their branches weaving together overhead to provide shade. 

 

Hinata glances over at Kuroo, but the guardian cat looks nonplussed. It’s sitting on a rock, licking its paws before cleaning the rest of its body. 

 

He shrugs off his shirt and chest binding, stretching his arms and back when they pop uncomfortably. He toes off his shoes before sliding off his pants and finally sinking into the water.

 

It’s tepid and the only ripples are caused by the slow inflation and deflation of Hinata’s chest as he breathes. He stares up at the sky, where clouds slowly chart their paths overhead, across the small circle of blue in the middle of a sea of pink blossoms. He floats just below the surface.

 

He barely feels anything in this moment, just the water, the perfect temperature against his skin. It’s better here, he decides, compared to the crowded stream. That little stream was never meant for two hundred gross and sweaty men. Even if they were the same physically, he wouldn’t fit in, too overwhelmed by all of the commotion around him. 

 

Here, he just breathes, and just floats. There’s not much more to do.

 

When Kuroo finally says it is time to head back, that they’ve stayed more than long enough and lunch will be over soon, Hinata feels like he’s been cleansed and born anew, like he’s a lizard, shedding everything that was Hisho until he was just Hinata, mind, body, and soul.

 

He is  Azumane Hinata; he is not easily defeated. 

 

…

 

The troops eat lunch in the common area of the camp, sitting in circles, talking, laughing. There is no obvious pattern to where everyone sits, but based on the ways they interact, Hinata suspects that they know each other from their villages. 

 

Hinata sees no one from his village, which is a good thing, but it does leave him feeling lonely. He picks at his food, watching those around him. He catches Daichi’s gaze. When the man smiles at him, he ducks his head, stares intently at his food. He knows he should  _ try  _ to make friends, unless he wants this war to be the most lonely thing in his entire life, but becoming friends requires opening up, and opening up means secrets, and secrets will be the death of Hinata one day.

 

“Can we sit here?”

 

He looks up to see Daichi, along with Kyoutani and someone he does not know. He nods anyway. There’s not much this could hurt. 

 

“This is Semi,” Daichi points to the man with white hair. Strangely enough, the ends of the strands are dark, almost black. He looks angry, but like Kyoutani when Hinata first met him, the anger doesn’t seem directed at the ginger, and more at the world around Semi. “And, you already met Kyoutani this morning.”

 

Kyoutani and Semi sit on either side of Daichi, to the direct left and right of Hinata respectively. Neither of them speak, and at first, Daichi appears a bit apprehensive about filling the silence, but soon enough, he’s chattering enough for all four. Every so often, he would pause, glance at them to see if they were still interested. And every time, they just nodded for him to continue, even long after they had all finished eating. 

 

…

 

After lunch, Kageyama pairs everyone off for sparring practice. Daichi smiles apologetically when he’s paired off with Kyoutani, but grins when Kageyama orders Hinata and Semi to work together. 

 

It’s awkward at first, to say the least. Neither of them talked much during lunch, and now that they’re alone, they both seem to freeze up. And on Hinata’s side, he’s not quite sure what to do. When he was little, he used to rough house with the other children, play tag and fake fights. When his mother found out, she brought an abrupt ending to the entire thing. 

 

Now, as Semi brings his fists to his face, guarding his stomach, and drops his waist, Hinata is at a loss. Although he mimics Semi’s stance to the best of his ability, the fact still stands that he doesn’t know how to spar. 

 

Semi’s first punch goes to Hinata’s stomach, not hard, just a reminder of how incredibly naive he is. The second is to the right cheek. It’s a glancing blow, sliding across his skin more than it makes actual contact. That one hurts, but it’s less the impact, and more how his teeth cut the inside of his cheek.

 

Semi shakes his hand out, frowning. “Are you even trying?”

 

“Of course, I am!” Hinata snaps. 

 

They both know it’s a lie. Semi starts punching harder after that.

 

The next is to the stomach, followed by a fourth with the other hand to his jaw. That one knocks Hinata flat on his ass, his head hitting the ground hard. His chest feels like it’s collapsing inward with that, and he has a hard time smiling and an even harder time breathing when Semi helps him to his feet.

 

Once he’s steady, Semi lowers his guard for a half a second, and Hinata takes advantage of it. He swings his fist wildly, hitting Semi’s jaw. The white-haired man doesn’t even flinch, while Hinata’s entire arm, from his shoulder to knuckles, feels like it’s been doused in lantern oil and set on fire. Hinata stretches his wrist, and offers a smile that feels as legitimate as the one he had the day before, when his mother was telling him what a beautiful bride he would be.

 

Eventually, the captain comes to watch them. This does nothing to improve Hinata. If anything, it makes the boy perform worse. Even single hit from Semi knocks him off balance, occasionally even knocking him to the ground. 

 

“Are you even trying?” Kageyama asks, frowning. Hinata frowns as well, and keeps his eyes on Semi.

 

“That’s what I asked!” Semi cracks a grin, but quickly drops it when he remembers whom he’s speaking to. “Sir.”

 

“I didn’t ask you,” the captain replies. Semi scowls, but stays quiet. 

 

“Keep practicing together. Make sure you don’t hurt him,” Kageyama says, looking at Semi. “He looks as brittle as glass, and this battalion doesn’t have time for injuries.” Hinata opens his mouth to argue, but Kageyama continues to talk. “Hinata, report to my tent after dinner. We’ll have to see if we can get you in fighting shape. Sending you out like this would help no one except Seijoh.”

 

Once Kageyama leaves to watch the next group, Hinata isn’t sure which part of the exchange surprised him the most: the fact that the captain was willing to help him one on one, or that Kageyama knew his name.

 

Hinata watches him walk away, lost in thought. He’s not sure how much time passes before Semi lands another punch. Hinata falls on his ass, and looks up to see Semi. 

 

“What was that for?”

 

“Pay attention. The captain may be young and essentially useless, but I don’t want him to blame me for roughing you up when you can’t even manage to duck out of the way.”

 

…

 

Dinner is the same as lunch - the same bland food, the same one-sided conversation from Daichi. Hinata fidgets the entire time, enough that Daichi even asks if he’s okay a few times. 

 

He’s just nervous, is all. Not that he would ever admit that, of course.

 

…

 

He stands outside of the command tent for far longer than he should, brushing his hair out of his eyes and tugging at the hem of his shirt. He can hear Kageyama and Washjio arguing inside, and although he knows he was ordered to practice with the captain, the prospect of seeing Washjio still scares him for some reason. 

 

He suspects it’s the eyebrows that scare him. It’s always the eyebrows. 

 

He contemplates walking back to his tent, snuggling up against Kuroo, and bearing the brunt of Kageyama’s anger in the morning, but Washjio walks out before Hinata can leave. Hinata freezes up, unsure how the man will react.

 

“Is there a reason you’re here?”

 

“The Captain - “

 

“Doesn’t have time for you, recruit. There’s a war going on; Kageyama doesn’t have time for little boys missing home.”

 

Hinata frowns. “I’m  _ not  _ missing - “

 

“Then go back to your tent,” Washjio orders, turning towards his own tent. “Honestly, part of being in the military is following orders, but you are not going to live long if you can’t read between the lines on occasion. That’s why the wall has been penetrated. People like you, soldiers like you, follow orders to the T and just don’t  _ think. _ ” 

 

“He asked me - “ Hinata begins to argue, not quite certain what he should say, what he  _ can  _ say. He knows Washjio to be the captain’s aide, but beyond that, the ginger doesn’t know if Washjio even has an official rank in the army. “The captain wanted - “

 

“Hinata?” Kageyama sticks his head out of the tent flap then, frowning slightly. “I was wondering when you would arrive…” he trails off when he sees the aide beside the boy. “What are you still doing out, Washjio?”

 

“Nothing, sir,” the aide says, smiling brightly, although his eyes betray his true feelings. “I was just saying goodnight to this recruit.” 

 

“Of course.”

 

“Of course,” Hinata echoes as Washjio ducks into his tent, before Kageyama is tugging him inside as well.

 

Lanterns are scattered around the inside of the tent. They hang from the support beams, sit on the tables. It causes a warm glow throughout. They also illuminate how messy the tent is. Spare pieces of armor are scattered throughout, slips of paper litter every surface. In the corner, the bed roll is covered in a few blankets. 

 

When Kageyama clears his throat, Hinata turns back to look at him.

 

“What do you know about fighting?”

 

The ginger laughs nervously and scratches that back of his neck. “Nothing? My mother didn’t like it when I was rough with the other children. She said it wasn’t...” He trails off, staring at his hands, realizing that he’s venturing into unsafe territory.

 

“She said it wasn’t, what?” 

 

Hinata looks up at the captain and smiles. “Doesn’t matter! Teach me how to fight, please, Captain Kageyama!”

 

Kageyama huffs. “Fine. Put your hands up, in front of your face. It would hurt your attacker more to hit you in the face, but having your hands here protect your face, throat, and stomach.” 

 

He puts his hands up, and Hinata copies his stance. He feels like a lot of his body is left unprotected like this, but he trusts Kageyama, for the most part. Sending him out, without any knowledge of how to fight, would only end in his death. 

 

“That, along with a few adjustments in an actual fight, should protect you.”

 

Hinata nods. Before he can blink, however, the captain punches him square on the jaw. Fortunately, this time, he doesn’t fall flat on his ass, like he did while practicing with Semi. He does, however, feel blood being to flow from his split lip.

 

“What the fu -  _ Captain!”  _ Hinata glares at Kageyama. The man only looks slightly apologetic. “That hurt.”

 

“You should have blocked.” He shrugs. “Go back to your tent. We’re done for tonight.”

 

Hinata glares at him and walks out of the command tent.

 

“Wait - !” Kageyama grabs his wrist. “Stop the bleeding and try to not get it infected. The last thing this army needs is a disease.” Kageyama lets go. “I will see you in the morning, recruit.”

 

…

 

“What happened to your face?” Daichi all but shouts when Hinata climbs out of his tent in the morning. “Is that - is that dried  _ blood?” _

 

Hinata wipes it away with the back of his hand. “It’s nothing.”

 

“Nothing?  _ Nothing?”  _ Daichi turns to Kyoutani, who had just left his own tent. “Tell Hinata that a wound like that can kill him! Tell him!”

 

Kyoutani yawns and scratches his jaw. A bit of stubble is beginning to emerge there. “I guess?”

 

Daichi sighs and rakes his right hand through his hair. 

 

“We’re all going to die before this war is over, I swear.”

 

…

 

A few hours later, almost everyone in the camp agrees with Daichi.

 

They’re running again, through the forests and mountains. Today, Kageyama is running with them, leading the pack. Originally, Hinata could see the back of his head, bobbing up and down with every step. Now, all he sees is Daichi, Kyoutani, Semi, and endless trees. The trees surround them, swallowing up all the air, stretching and growing until they consume the stars above.

 

Kyoutani is in the front, breathing easily. Hinata knows he could run faster, keep up with the rest of the battalion. Kyoutani knows as well. They all know. But still, he runs, changing his pace minutely as to not leave the others behind. 

 

He might not be so bad after all.

 

…

 

When they finally make it back to the compound, Hinata collapses to the ground. It’s hard to breathe when he’s compressing his chest. His chest heaves, struggling to draw in enough oxygen. 

 

“Are you okay?” Semi asks, crouching down by Hinata’s head. The ginger nods, even as he coughs hard. 

 

He’s going to be okay. He’s going to be better.

 

…

 

Hinata is at sparring practice with the captain again in the low lighting of the command tent. 

 

Hinata lasts longer, this time, dodging blows, almost landing a few of his own. Kageyama almost seems to be more careful this time, like the events of the day before made him realize that Hinata wasn’t steel, wasn’t bronze. He’s human, and breaks just as easily. 

 

“You’re getting better.”

 

Dodge, block,  _ punch _ .

 

Miss the punch.

 

“Do you say that to everyone you teach?”

 

Dodge, block,  _ punch. _

 

Graze Kageyama’s cheek. No damage.

 

“I wouldn’t teach you if it wasn’t worth my time.”

 

Dodge, fumble the block. Kageyama’s punch to the stomach. Hinata doesn’t fall, only stumbles, keeps breathing.

 

“Glad to know I’m worth something.”

 

“Was there a time you weren’t?”

 

No punch to dodge, no punch to block. 

 

Hinata doesn’t react. This wasn’t part of the training with the captain. He’s gone too far, crossed into unknown territory. Back up, back up,  _ back up! _

 

“We’ve all let someone down.”

 

“Ah.” Kageyama punches, this time, a left hook. Hinata blocks it with his right forearm. “I know that feeling well. My father, he expected more of me. He was already a major by the time he was my age. It doesn’t matter that his father bought his rank, or that he was actually allowed to fight.”

 

These punches feel harder, but they’re wild, easy to block and dodge. They’re careless, without thought. This is dangerous territory, but Hinata isn’t the one in danger, and he’s not the one falling into the void.

 

“Besides, it’s not like the  _ general  _ does much fighting anymore. He’s just the Emperor’s lapdog. His  _ enforcer.” _

 

The punches stop, but Kageyama’s hands stay fists at his side. 

 

“I  _ will  _ be better. We’ll be better.” He turns around and clasps his hands at his back. “This army will crush Seijoh, Hinata.”

 

The captain turns around, and there’s a wild gleam in his eyes. Hinata has half the thought to run away, but he feels like he’s been frozen in Kageyama’s gaze.

 

“It doesn’t matter if everyone thinks us to be weak. Being the underdog, it means you bite harder and hold on for longer. Your friend, Kyoutani, knows that better than anyone. You would be wise to learn from him. Stay in the back until you’re strong, and you can destroy everything.”

 

Hinata smiles. He likes that image. 

 

“That will be us, that will be this battalion. We will win this war, and Seijoh will be nothing more than ash.

 

“How does that sound to you, Hinata?”

 

The ginger doesn’t respond. He draws himself up in a defensive stance. Even though Kageyama’s hits land and rattle him, Hinata will come out on top. 

 

He will crush Seijoh, even if it’s with everyone dead around him.

 

…

…

 

 


	2. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to get the final chapter out in the next few weeks, but if you've made it this far, thank you? I'll try to write more once my shoulder isn't killing me
> 
> tumblr - mother-iwa-chan

“Fourteen villages, Ukai,” the Emperor says once his general is standing before him. “That is the number of villages,  _ Karasuno’s  _ villages, Oikawa has destroyed in the past month.”

 

“What do you require of the legion, my Emperor?”

 

Takeda doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he studies the room, the dark wood of the walls and columns, the gold of the crown molding. How lucky he is, how blessed, to be living in this palace, surrounded by guards living simply to ensure that  _ he  _ stays alive, continues to breathe with each sunrise and sunset. 

 

How fortunate, he is, to live here in the middle of the kingdom, safe from the monster razing the north of his empire, killing his people.

 

“Destroy him,” he says, finally, breathing out the word like a prayer to the gods, may they have mercy on his lands. “Do not let him continue to behave like this. Seijoh will not have this Kingdom, no matter how entitled this  _ child  _ thinks he is. 

 

“Bring me his head, Keishin,” the Emperor growls. He won’t lose, he simply won’t allow it to happen. “See to it that Captain Kageyama’s men are adequately trained, enough to provide fall back, and burn Seijoh to the ground.”

 

“As you wish, my Emperor.” 

 

A kiss to his lord’s hand, the general is out of the room, his cloak swishing behind him. His men will be ready to ride before the following dawn. He has no wish to see his son and whatever ragtag band he’s decided will serve their Emperor, but Takeda’s wish, his command.

 

… 

 

When the general arrives with his legion of battle-hardened soldiers, the entire battalion seems to hold its breath. Everyone has heard rumors of the rivalry between their captain and the general of the empire’s army, but now that Hinata knows the truth, or at least Kageyama’s truth, he almost misses the dark safety of rumors. 

 

The general and the captain, they don’t look alike at all. General Ukai has blonde hair, completely different from the captain’s midnight black, spiked back out of his face. Nothing about their features is similar at all, but Hinata has heard the other rumors just like the rest of the army, the ones that seem to pop up at every camp:  _ “bastard child, not his father’s son.” _

 

The two men greet each other stiffly, bowing before heading into the command tent. Their personal assistants follow after. They talk nervously between themselves. 

 

The army - the captain’s battalion and the general’s legion - stand perfectly still, both on edge. There’s a clear divide between the two groups, from the ten feet between their rows to the way no words pass between them. 

 

The silence between the two feels oppressive, like the wall they’re supposed to protect. 

 

…

 

An hour later, Kageyama sticks his head out of the tent and tells everyone to run around the camp until he and the general finish talking.

 

Not he and his father, just the general. Hinata wonders what it’s like to have a father you despise that much. He’s not certain he wants to know.

 

…

 

They’ve been running for what feels like hours, armor weighing heavy on their shoulders. The sun has moved from its zenith to behind the treeline, leaving just enough light for the army to not trip over each and every rock and root. 

 

Hinata feels like he might be sick from overexertion. Even the army proper looks drained. Running in a loop like this, it’s hard to gauge where everyone else is relatively. Kyoutani is ahead of him by a few feet, and Daichi is just behind him, but a redheaded man from Ukai’s legion is beside Hinata for a second before pulling ahead and disappearing beyond the bend in the fence. 

 

…

 

When Ukai finally exits the command tent, a silent wave of relief echoes through the army. They slowly trickle back into the encampment, most of them bypassing the meal tent to crash in their tents. 

 

Hinata follows after slowly, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. He is baking underneath his chest plate. Sweat slides down his skin, leaving everything steamy and uncomfortable. 

 

Kuroo meets him a few tents down from his own. The cat is swishing its tail, head cocked to the side. It doesn’t speak, which is good. The last thing Hinata needs is a repeat of Semi asking why it sounded like his cat was sleep talking. 

 

Hinata shucks his armor and chucks it inside before crawling in after it. As soon as he lays down on his sleeping roll, Kuroo plops down on his stomach. The cat feels fatter than it did when Hinata found it, and the weight presses against his stomach and chest uncomfortably. 

 

“Why do you have to be so heavy?” Hinata complains, even as he strokes the fur along Kuroo’s spine. “Couldn’t the ancestors send something like, I don’t know, a dragon that could fly itself around instead of digging its claws into my intestines?” 

 

Kuroo digs his claws in a little deeper in response. “You’re so rude to me, Hinata. At least I’m not complaining to the ancestors about how they should have charged me with someone who doesn’t  _ sweat  _ so damn much.”

 

“Oh, fuck off.”

 

…

 

Hinata slips out of his tent when the sun begins to rise. 

 

Tanaka is waiting for him at the stables, neighing happily when he sees his master. 

 

“Hey, boy,” Hinata whispers, rubbing the horse’s nose. “I missed you. We’re going to go wash up, yeah? That okay with you?”

 

He leads the horse out of the stable slowly, coaxing it out and into the camp. He’s not sure what would happen to him if someone saw him leave, even if it is just to bathe, but he has a feeling getting caught isn’t an option. 

 

Once they’re a few meters outside the gate, Hinata mounts the horse and steers him in the direction of the forest and the stream. It’s slow going, or at least slower than Hinata normally likes to ride. But here, at night and on unfamiliar terrain, he can’t risk Tanaka being injured. 

 

So instead, they stumble through the forest in the dead of night. The air is cool and moist, refreshing on Hinata’s skin. He feels almost completely alone out here, and infinitely more at peace than he does back in the camp, surrounded by so many soldiers. 

 

When they finally reach the stream, Hinata inhales deeply before dismounting Tanaka. 

 

Leaves crunch under his feet before he tugs off his boots and outer layers, draping them over his shoes. His chest binding comes off next in long sweaty coils, water dripping off as he rings it out. In the moonlight, the purples, blues, and yellows of bruises is obvious. Raising his arms hurts, breathing hurts. There’s little skin around his breasts in its original creamy color; it’s nothing more than a mural of dark hues now. 

 

He kicks off his briefs last before wading into one of the shallow pools lining the stream. The water is warm, heated by the sun throughout the day. He just floats, staring up at stars and sakura blossoms. His skin feels like lightning is alive in it, flowing from one hand to the other, back and forth, back and forth. 

 

He can finally breathe fully, reveling in the feeling of oxygen deep in his lungs.

 

…

 

The air is calm, the air is still.

 

Even as war wages on in the north and people die in their homes as the walls burn around them, this inch of the universe, this speck of comos, is at peace. 

 

Breathe in, breathe out.

 

The air is still, the air is silent.

 

…

 

When Hinata opens his eyes hours later, his fingers have shriveled like prunes and the water has grown quite cold as the night continues on. 

 

He yawns as he dries himself with his undershirt, eyes blurry as he pulls on clothes and clambers onto Tanaka. Luckily, the horse remembers the path back. Hinata is barely conscious when they arrive at the stables.

 

The stars still glisten overhead. 

 

…

 

Hinata stumbles through the village of tents, tired and pleasantly buzzed from floating around in the water. His skin feels loose and he can breathe easily, breathe easily,  _ easily -  _

 

Shit.

 

He jerks around to face the gate, suddenly wide awake. He can breathe, and there’s really only one reason for that. His binder is back in the woods, lying in a pile of leaves on the forest floor.

 

“Shit,” he whispers and beginning to run headlong for the gate. 

 

This is bad. He  _ cannot  _ be seen without it on, and the one back at the stream is the only thing he has that can be used. He’s almost to the gate when he sees Semi.

 

The man is watching him, head tilted to the side. The moonlight is sparking off his helmet, leaving him looking otherworldly. Instinctively, Hinata hunches over, hiding his chest from view. 

 

“You shouldn’t be out,” he says, taking off his helmet and tucking it under his arm as he walks towards Hinata. “Go back to your tent. Desertion is not to be taken lightly.”

 

“I’m not deserting. If I was, i would have taken my horse, at least.” Hinata straightens, staring hard at Semi. “I just left something by the stream.”

 

“What is - ?“

 

They both realize his mistake at the same time. Even though he raises his arms and crosses them over his chest to obscure Semi’s view, it is already too late.

 

“You saw nothing,” Hinata says in a deathly quiet voice, staring Semi in the eye. “I’m just another recruit, nothing out of the ordinary, okay?”

 

“You’re a girl,” Semi looks scared, but whether it’s because of the wrath of the Miyagi’s army when it discovers a woman within its midsts or the way Hinata looks like he’s going to strip flesh from bone, the ginger isn’t sure.

 

“You won’t tell?”

 

“No, Daichi would - Daichi would kill me.”

 

“Okay, good.” Hinata walks around Semi. He can feel the man’s eyes on his back. “I’ll be back soon.”

 

“Okay,” Semi sighs.

 

Hinata wonders how much he’s fucked the two of them over with this secret. 

 

…

 

Semi doesn’t look at him at all during breakfast. It’s nothing new, the two of them hadn’t talked much. Everyone in their group was there because of Daichi. He’s still the only one to talk, for the most part. Occasionally, Kyoutani or Semi will mumble something, and Daichi smiles and grins like they’ve been told this war is finally over and they can all go back home. 

 

Besides Daichi’s near constant chatter, the armies are mostly quiet. The General’s legion barely talks from what Hinata has seen of them. They follow orders to the T. Kageyama’s battalion is always off put by this, the Captain’s scowl, and Ukai’s orders he always seems to be barking out. 

 

Daichi’s the only one that seems unaffected, which is nice, Hinata guess. Daichi’s the one keeping them all sane. Hinata’s not certain what he would do without him.

 

…

 

He’s tugging his overshirt on when Kageyama slips into his tent that night. 

 

He drops his belt to the ground, shocked by his captain’s sudden appearance, equally thankful that Kageyama couldn’t see his binder. He hurries to tie his belt in a sloppy knot. 

 

“The General has taken over my command tent,” he supplies, “so we can’t practice there.”

 

Before Hinata can reply, Kageyama grabs his hand and forces him out of the tent. Hinata wants to argue, Kageyama can’t just grab him, he doesn’t people to touch him, he has too much to lose. He could  _ die,  _ along with his entire family, if the Emperor decided it necessary. 

 

“Don’t touch me.”

 

“Then learn to keep your guard up, Hinata.”

 

…

 

Hinata feels like he’s hit a wall. 

 

He can’t tell when he’s improving, when every night Kageyama ramps up the skill level, throwing harder moves and harder hits. 

 

“Figure it out, Hinata,” the captain always says when Hinata asks how to block a knee to the crotch, a kick to the side. “No one will be there to give you pointers in combat.”

 

It’s an uphill battle, never ending, never stopping until Hinata is on the ground dry heaving. Sometimes, even that isn’t enough for Kageyama, and he yells at Hinata to man up and stand, suck it up and take the punches or knock Kageyama on his ass.

 

“Drop out, Hinata. They’ll kill you, but it won’t hurt nearly as badly as when a Seijoh soldier eviscerates you and leaves you bleeding on the side of a mountain, staring at your intestines.”

 

…

 

When he wakes up, his entire body feels sore. The Captain has never been one to pull his punches, whether it is verbal or physical. Hinata is becoming stronger, faster, with every practice, but new bruises have joined the collection already blossoming under his shirt. 

 

He struggles to get out of bed, struggles to wrap his chest. Every breath feels like fire, and the tighter the fabric becomes, the more it hurts.

 

“Fuck,” he whispers, blinking back tears. He bites his lip to hold back sobs, before finally giving up and dumping the cloth on his bed roll. 

 

“Hinata?”

 

“Semi?” he croaks, surprised when the man sticks his head in the ginger’s tent before crawling inside. 

 

Hinata feels the urge to cover his chest, but represses it.  _ It’s just skin,  _ he tells himself.  _ Semi already knows. Semi won’t tell. _

 

If he’s shocked but the sight of the other soldier topless, he doesn’t make it obvious. If anything, he looks empathetic. It’s a shocking expression, one Hinata hadn’t been expecting after how silent Semi had been during every meal since the night at the gate, barely even looking at the others.

 

“Daichi was wondering where you were…” he trails off. “What are all of those bruises from?”

 

“The captain is  _ helping  _ me learn to fight,” Hinata replies sarcastically. “The rest are from binding.”

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

“Not as much as being executed.”

 

Semi’s lips form a perfect O. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.” A beat later, “Do you need help?”

 

“No, I can - “ he starts to say, but the look on Semi’s face forces him to change his mind. “Okay. Yeah, sure.”

 

It is slow going, with Semi stopping every few moments to make sure it was tight enough to hide everything, without restricting Hinata’s breathing too badly. It still hurts like a bitch with every layer, but not as badly as when Hinata does it himself.

 

“Does your family know?” 

 

Hinata doesn’t have to ask for clarification. 

 

“The letter is for my grandfather,” he begins. “He fought in the last war until he took an arrow to the knee. Apparently, no one thought he would survive, but somehow, he did. He can barely walk sometimes. The injury never healed properly, with all the work on the farm.”

 

He’s about to continue when Semi’s hand trails over his right collarbone lightly, eliciting a gasp. 

 

Semi stops immediately. Hinata already misses his touch. “Are you okay?” he asks, eyes wide with panic. 

 

Hinata swallows hard, looking everywhere but Semi’s face. “Fine.”

 

“Okay,” Semi replies, smiling faintly as he ties off the end of the binder. “All done,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to Hinata’s cheek. Hinata’s eyes flutter closed, and when he opens them, the tent flap is fluttering behind Semi. 

 

His entire body feels warm, his knees weak. It seems like it’s going to be a good day.

 

…

 

“I can’t stay for much longer.”

 

Hinata turns back, puzzled. Kuroo’s sitting on his pillow, something Hinata always chastises it for. Hinata can’t bring himself to do it this time.

 

“Why not?” Hinata asks quietly after swallowing hard.

 

“Spirits, we’re not supposed to stay in the human world for long. It’s draining, you see. Keeping the form of a cat is hard enough, but communicating? Next to impossible. Your ancestors have powered me for as long as they can, but - “

 

“Will I ever see you again, Kuroo? Or, is this goodbye forever?” 

 

The cat smiles sadly, flicking in the half light of the tent.

 

“If you ever truly need me, I shall come.” The cat walks forward silently and rests a paw on Hinata’s thigh. It is completely, absolutely, weightless. “Until then, Hinata. Kick Oikawa’s ass for me, okay?”

 

Hinata laughs. “Okay.”

 

“And eat your vegetables.”

 

Hinata rolls his eyes to that.

 

“What?” Kuroo hisses. “Just because I’m not here doesn’t mean you can slack off on health. Eat them!” 

 

Kuroo swats him one last time, the hit impossible to feel, and is gone.

 

…

 

“What are you so happy about?” Daichi asks at the end of breakfast as he and Hinata carry their bowls back to the wash tent. “You’ve been smiling all morning.

 

“Nothing,” Hinata blushes. 

 

Daichi gasps. “Something did happen.” He laughs softly. “You don’t have to tell me, Hinata. Whatever you're hiding, you can tell me once you're ready. But just know, Semi’s a good guy. He’s not going to hurt you. None of us will.”

 

“I know.” 

 

And, he does.

 

…

 

That day, the legion leaves. 

 

When it is announced after sparring practice, which Hinata manages to hold his own in, the battalion seems to be able to breathe again. It feels like 250 men take in a collective inhale, relax as one. 

 

The legion seems happy as well. They’re soldiers through and through, men who chose this life, unlike the drafted battalion. Men like them, they’re not used to staying in one camp for this long, in close quarters with barely trained recruits. Hinata doesn’t take it too harshly. He’s happy to see the legion gone, as well.

 

…

 

Later that afternoon, once the legion has broken down its side of the encampment, the two armies gather to see the General off. Ukai and Kageyama leave the command tent together. They both seem tenser than ever.

 

They share a few private words between them before bowing. When they stand straight and turn to face their men, Kageyama’s eyes look tired, his shoulders tight.

 

“My legion will be headed to the north, to meet Oikawa and his pseudo army at the breach in the wall. Captain Kageyama’s... _ men  _ will be following as backup, to keep a possible path of retreat clear. Even though most of you have never even handled a sword before, you should be able to not mess this up.”

 

Kageyama recoils like he’s been slapped. Hinata swears it looks like Ukai and Washjio are sharing twin smirks. All around Hinata, the battalion develops an appetite for bloodlust.

 

“But, do know, this is an important position. The Emperor has faith in you, and therefore, I have faith in you.” He pauses, and takes a deep breath like it pains him to do so. “I hope to see you all alive when this travesty of a war is over.”

 

…

 

That night, he and Kageyama are back to training in the command tent.

 

Small hints of the General’s visit remain, mostly in neat stacks of scrolls and the scent of snuff. Kageyama still looks tense, but not as bad as before. If anything, the only thing truly different is his punches. They’re light and slow, barely hard enough to bruise, easy to dodge or block.

 

Something is off, but Hinata doesn’t question it.

 

“We’re leaving to follow the legion in the morning. We won’t being traveling nearly as fast, though,” Kageyama says a few minutes later, just before throwing a particularly flimsy punch.

 

In that moment, Hinata sees an opportunity, the first he’s ever had, and it’s been deposited right into his lap.

 

He grabs the captain’s right wrist and squeezes hard, twisting it behind Kageyama’s back. With his right leg, Hinata sweeps Kageyama off his feet, knocking him down on his stomach. Hinata lands on Kageyama’s back and straddles him, squeezing the captain’s hips with his thighs as tightly as possible so he isn’t dislodged. 

 

Luckily for him, landing on his stomach disorientes Kageyama enough that Hinata isn’t in any danger of being knocked off. Before Kageyama has a chance to recover, the recruit begins to box the captain’s ears, swinging his fists as hard as he can. 

 

His knuckles are bloody when he flips Kageyama over. The captain’s eyes are glazed over, his lip split and bloody. Without a second thought, Hinata punches Kageyama square in the nose. The bone crunches sickly underneath his fist. Hinata pulls back breathing hard. He wipes blood on his pants’ leg.

 

Kageyama turns his head and spits out a mix of saliva and blood, before smiling up at Hinata, lines of blood highlighting the spaces between his teeth. 

 

“Like teacher, like student,” he says, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His smile seems out of place, with blood pouring down his face him his lips and nose. “I think you know how to fight now, wouldn’t you say?”

 

Hinata wouldn’t say - doesn’t say - anything when he leaves.

 

… 

 

Instead of his own tent, he crawls into Daichi’s. 

 

“Mmm? What time is it?” Daichi asks, his voice deep with sleep. 

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Hinata whispers, laying down next to the large man. Daichi’s body is like a furnace; even without a blanket, Daichi emits enough heat for Hinata to feel warm and comfortable. “Go to sleep.”

 

“No - “ he pauses to yawn. “Tell me what’s wrong. Something’s bothering you.”

 

“Hey, Daichi? How did you become so good at reading people?” Hinata asks instead. He’s not sure what  _ is  _ wrong, and he definitely doesn’t want want to talk about it, whatever it is. “You always know what we’re thinking.”

 

“Don’t change the subject.”

 

“Of course not.” Hinata sighs and rolls onto his side to look at Daichi, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the flickering of his eyelids. “I… I’m a girl.”

 

Daichi tilts his head up to the roof of the tent, rolls his eyes. It’s hard to see, in the dark. Just the vague outline, the shift in the glare from the light of the full moon and stars. 

 

“I don’t believe it,” Daichi finally says. 

 

“But I’m Azumane Asahi’s grand _ daughter,  _ my mother’s  _ daughter.  _ I went to the matchmaker covered in makeup the day I left for the army. I’m a - “

 

“You’re whatever you want to be, Hinata.”

 

“Hisho.”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“That’s my name, Hisho. My father picked it before he died.”

 

“Then who picked Hinata?”

 

“My - I did.”

 

“Exactly.  _ You  _ did. It’s your life, Hinata. Your choice. You’re the only one who gets to decide your fate.” 

 

Warmth explodes in Hinata’s chest, and he fights back a grin.

 

“So, what else is bothering you?”

 

“Semi. He - kissed me?” Hinata wrinkles his brow. It’s strange, confusing, confusing to say out loud. “On the cheek. But, it felt nice. Really nice, you know? Like tea on a cold day, or the first day of summer, or the sunlight on your skin after a thunderstorm.”

 

“It’s called love, Hinata. There’s nothing wrong with it. Things that make you feel good, make you happy, aren’t bad. The gods know we all need a little more happiness than fate has given us.”

 

“Love,” Hinata echoes slowly, soaking up the word.

 

“Love,” Daichi agrees.

 

“You make me feel the same way,” Hinata mumbles a few minutes later, once Daichi’s breathing is almost even. He half hopes the man won’t hear. He wants Daichi to say it back, say it’s okay to love more than one person.

 

Daichi isn’t asleep, Hinata realizes when the man gasps sharply beside him.

 

“Is that okay? To -  _ love  _ more than one person?”

 

After a shaky breath, Daichi reaches out to clutch Hinata’s hand at his side. “More than okay. Love is meant to be shared. I love you all, you know? You and Semi, even Kyoutani. You’re all such strong, amazing individuals. I’m glad to have met you, lucky to have met you.

 

“It’s okay,” Daichi whispers one more time, almost reverently, as he pulls Hinata against his chest, and presses his lips against the small man’s head. In his arms, Daichi is even warmer, heating Hinata like a fire.

 

And that, that’s more than okay.

 

…

 

They begin the long ride north just after breakfast the next day. 

 

The four of them, Hinata and Semi, Daichi and Kyoutani, keep to the back of the battalion, bringing up the rear. None of them had been up to being in the front, or even in the middle. The further from Kageyama, the better, had been the general consensus. 

 

It was an easy decision, one decided without conversation halfway through breakfast, after Daichi had coaxed the story of training with Kageyama. The entire camp at been in shock when they saw their captain’s swollen face. Washjio seemed to hover more than he normally did, tutting whenever Kageyama did anything too “strenuous.” 

 

While Hinata told the story, his three - companions? - it no longer seemed strong enough a word to describe them, to describe their bond - had been completely enraptured. Even normally stoic Kyoutani had been expressive, letting out a low whistle when Hinata mentioned the part about breaking Kageyama’s nose.

 

Now, they travel in near silence, the only noise coming from the clopping of hundreds of horse hooves on the forest floor. It’s like when they use to run circles around camp for hours, the four of them never straying far from the others. 

 

…

 

When they camp for the night, the four of them are tucked away from the others, again without conversation. Something’s shifted in dynamic, even if none of them can put their finger on it. It is probably all for the best, however. Daichi is the only one of the four who can actually carry a conversation like a goddamn adult.

 

…

 

Semi helps him bind in the morning, like he has for the two previous days. It’s a good routine, one that motivates Hinata to get out of his bedroll every morning.

 

Semi’s fingers seem to trail across more skin than strictly necessary, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. His hands are anything but warm, but the cold is as refreshing as his kiss, dragging Hinata to the surface of a lake, tugging him up until his head is above the waterline, forcing oxygen into his lungs even as the fabric constricts his air intake. 

 

This - this is enough. 

 

…

 

The first village they pass through is surrounded by acres and acres of rice fields, stretching out to the horizon in every direction. From Tanaka’s saddle, Hinata watches people work in the fields. It’s something he’s familiar with, a slice of home, from back when he was younger and his mother wasn’t constantly yelling about what was acceptable. 

 

The people in the fields, they watch back. They whisper to each other, and although Hinata can’t hear the words or read their lips, their scared expressions are easy enough to interpret. It’s the second group of Karasuno soldiers they’ve seen in just as many days. If they didn’t already know that the war was close, they know it now. 

 

Hinata glances over at Kyoutani. The blond’s face is tight. These people - their village is still standing, their families are still alive. Although they may be scared, and war may be nearby, they haven’t seen what Kyoutani has, and the horrors Oikawa and his men leave in their wake. Hinata thinks about reaching out and taking Kyoutani’s hand for a split second, before deciding against it. He grips the reins tighter instead.

 

In the village itself is quiet and still, with children watching from doorways. They know, they all know, to not stray before the army’s horses. Even before this war started, Hinata had been taught that. Now, with Seijoh gaining land, it somehow feels more important. 

 

…

 

The battalion covers ground faster than Hinata did on his own, and within a few days, he knows they’re drawing close to his village. 

 

They’re still too far out for Hinata to recognize anything, but he knows, deep in his chest, he’s going home.

 

…

 

“The sky is gray,” Daichi says, a few hours after leaving camp. Hinata hums, too tired to truly pay attention.

 

“Rain?” Semi asks.

 

“I don’t think so. Can’t you smell it? Smoke.”

 

Hinata closes his eyes, tilts back his head and inhales deeply through his nose. Now that it’s been pointed out, it’s not that hard to detect. He rides in silence for a few moments, thinking nothing of it. But, before long, a realization hits him square in the chest.

 

“Hey, Kyoutani?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“What did Seijoh do to your village?”

 

Semi scowls. “Fuck, Hinata, you can’t just ask something like that.”

 

Hinata doesn’t spare him a glance. He keeps his eyes on the path ahead. “They almost burned it, right? Would have, if they hadn’t been chased off like a pack of wild dogs.”

 

“You don’t think…” Kyoutani’s fear is clear. It’s obvious that they’re thinking of the same thing.

 

“You know it’s true.” With that, he kicks Tanaka’s flanks, signaling the horse to begin a fast gallop.

 

“What are you talking about?” Daichi asks, but Kyoutani is urging his horse after Hinata already, and Semi is just as clueless. Without any other choice, Semi and Daichi follow.

 

Hinata rides hard, kicking up dust and debris, passing the other two hundred recruits as quickly as he can on the winding trails. Before long he’s passing Kageyama and Washjio. He ignores their shouts of protest. The scent of smoke is growing more predominant with every stride, darkening the sky.

 

The forest looks familiar when he bursts through the trees. The main gate, once ornate wood carving with red detailing standing proudly, is now nothing more than a husk. It still glows, coals hot. The wall that protected the village is nothing but rubble. 

 

Hinata slips out of the saddle, and ventures into his village on foot. Buildings are just the support beams, surrounded by ash and lumps of smoldering ruin. His chest feels tight, but he knows it is not from his binding.

 

When he sees the matchmaker’s office, or, what  _ used  _ to be the matchmaker’s office, he bursts into a sprint, tripping over his feet in his mad dash. He hears Kyoutani behind him, calling out for him to stop, to come back, but he doesn’t listen, can’t. 

 

His house still stands, just barely. Flames lick at the roof, leaving the red color of the tiles sinister. His mother is in the courtyard, dressed in what almost looks like fine red silk, flowing chiffon underneath her.

 

Hinata approaches her slowly. Her skin is cold when he rolls her over, clammy, bloodstained. It’s not red silk, just everyday clothes, just stained. And, it is not red chiffon; it’s just a puddle, the color darkening as it oxidizes. 

 

Everything feels a bit fuzzy around the edges, from Hinata’s skin to his vision. His ears are ringing. Blood is on his fingertips, and although he knows it’s from his mother, it feels like his own, like his very existence is pouring out.

 

“Hinata, are you okay?”

 

It’s Kyoutani, and his hands are on Hinata’s cheeks, his eyes level. His eyes are brown, shot around the waterline. 

 

“Please, just stop screaming.”

 

There are tears on Kyoutani’s own cheeks, like a necklace of saltwater pearls. Hinata doesn’t know who’s screaming, or who Kyoutani is talking to. It can’t be him, Hinata isn’t screaming, he’s completely silent. 

 

They’re the only ones in the courtyard.

 

“Daichi! Semi!” Kyoutani shakes Hinata’s head, slaps his right cheek just hard enough sting. “Come on, cut it out.  _ Please.  _ They’re coming, it’s going to be okay.”

 

“Is that - ?”

 

“Shut it, Semi.”

 

They’re not alone anymore. Semi is here. Hinata doesn’t know where he came from. All he knows is his throat is raw.

 

“Hinata? Will you stop screaming, Hinata?”

 

Daichi. That’s Daichi’s voice, Daichi’s arms wrapped around Hinata’s waist. They just as warm, but Hinata still feels fuzzy around the edges, blurred like charcoal. 

 

“Good boy,” Daichi says, a kiss to the cheek. Soft lips, soft voice. Grounding, calming. He’s less fuzzy and images are beginning to take shape.

 

They’re watching him, faces identical portraits of nervousness. 

 

“Are you back with us now, Hinata?” Kyoutani asks. “I - I know this is hard.”

 

Hinata wipes tears off of his faces, leaving a smear of blood. He stands, and turns away from his mother.

 

“Did anyone survive?”

 

“No one has reported any survivors. They could be hiding, or - “

 

“There aren’t any,” butts in Kyoutani. “This is Seijoh. If they were here long enough to burn this place to the ground, no one would have survived. I’m sorry, Hinata. But, they’re gone.”

 

Hinata hums, and turns back around.

 

“Then there’s no point in staying, right? No survivors, no one here to save.”

 

“Hinata…” Daichi is still crying, even though he tries to hide it. “You can’t mean that.”

 

“Oikawa couldn’t have gotten far in last few hours.” Hinata carries on like nobody else has spoken. “We can stop them.”

 

He’s met with silence.

 

“I need to go talk to the captain,” he says quickly, running before they respond. He can’t meet their eyes. They’re being kind, so very kind. And Hinata loves it, loves  _ them,  _ but he wants blood now, and he will have it.

 

…

 

“We have to stop them,” Hinata tells Kageyama before he’s even fully in the command tent. It’s neater than Hinata has been expecting, but since it was only erected a few hours previous, the captain has yet to have time to destroy any sense of order and organization that Washjio has created. 

 

“Your eyes are red,” he says in lieu of a response. 

 

“And yours are swollen. Answer the damn question,  _ Captain.” _

 

“That’s the duty of the General’s legion, Hinata,” Kageyama replies, not looking. Papers and pams are spread out across the table in front of him. “The Emperor has ordered us to provide backup and a clear line of retreat if needed, nothing more.”

 

“But people are  _ dead,  _ Captain!” he argues, clenching his fists. “And people are going to keep dying if  - “

 

“If  _ what?”  _ Kageyama snaps, finally looking up. His face is still bruised, the color molting into something green and yellow. Around his eye, it is particularly bad, still partially swollen and puffy. “If what, recruit? People are already dead, and nothing can change that. Villages are being burned constantly, and not just by Oikawa. You only care now because you’ve been drafted.

 

“Tell me, Hinata: what have you been doing for the past three years? Helping your aging parents on the family farm? Well, that’s fucking  _ fantastic,  _ because I’ve been fighting a war. I clearly needed your expertise.”

 

“At least I’m acting like I care!”

 

“And how does that help? Caring doesn’t win wars, well trained soldiers do. And, by god, you’re the least trained one here. Landing a punch on me when I’m going easy on you doesn’t equate the real world.” He’s glowering, teeth all but bared. 

 

Hinata wants to knock his teeth out. Instead, he just sighs and shakes his head.

 

“Everyone here is dead,” he says, “and you just want us to carry, business as usual?”

 

“You’re a soldier. It’s a part of the job.”

 

“Part of the  _ job?!”  _ Hinata throws his hands up in the air. “Fuck you, Kageyama! I don’t want to carry on like nothing has happened. I just found my mother’s goddamn body in front of our house. How would you have felt, Captain, if that had been your family?”

 

Kageyama looks stricken. “I - I didn’t know. I - I’m sorry. You didn’t say anything.”

 

“And why should I have? Like you said, people die.” Hinata shakes his head to stop the captain from answering. “You don’t understand, do you? I could be from any village, anyone in this battalion could have called this village home. They all would have felt the same.”

 

He leaves the tent without another word.

 

…

 

He wanders around the village’s many winding and crooked streets as soldiers bury the dead all around him. He recognizes a few of the - bodies - but tries to not think to hard about any of them. Just another village destroyed by Oikawa and Seijoh, just a few hundred more dead in this unending war. 

 

He finds Asahi an hour later, in their neighbor’s vegetable garden. There’s a light blood splatter on the eggplants. His body is cold, colder than Hinata’s mother had been. His lips seem to glow blue.

 

Slowly, carefully, Hinata closes Asahi’s eyelids. He grips his hand, the skin just as calloused as Hinata remembers. In the other hand, Hinata finds a carved statue, wood.

 

He studies it in the fading evening light, runs his fingertips over its smoothed surface.

 

Taking in a mouthful of oxygen, he stands and tucks the cat figurine in his pocket. He wishes there was more he could bring with him, but this, this is enough.

 

…

 

He’s half asleep that night when his tent flap opens. It might not be in his best interests to just ignore it and try to continue to sleep, which is exactly what he does, but soon enough, it’s okay, when Semi, Daichi and Kyoutani all somehow manage to climb inside and lay down beside him.

 

In half a second, the tent is already boiling hot, leaving them to all swelter in misery, particularly Hinata, who’s squished up between Daichi’s massive biceps and Kyoutani’s firm abs. In all honesty, it’s not the worst place he could be, but it’s just so  _ hot,  _ he’s considering climbing out and sleeping in the stables with Tanaka. 

 

Hinata wiggles a bit against Kyoutani’s side, trying to force space between the three of them, until Kyoutani growls low in his throat. Hinata stills immediately, unsure of how to act.

 

“You’re never going to fall asleep if you keep moving so much,” Kyoutani says in a calm voice, heavy with sleepiness. He wraps an arm around Hinata’s waist and pulls him back against his chest, humming contently as he rubs his chin against the crook of Hinata’s neck.”You’ll probably keep Daichi up even more though.”

 

Semi lets out a low whistle and Kyoutani chuckles.

 

“I can’t - how  _ could  _ you?”

 

Hinata doesn’t understand the joke now, and has a feeling he won’t for a while. He pushes back against Kyoutani’s chest, sighing slowly, willing his heartbeat to slow down so he can sleep.

 

He’s beginning to slip into unconsciousness when Semi suddenly shoots up.

 

“Binder!” 

 

“The fuck…” Kyoutani whispers, squeezing Hinata a bit tighter. “It’s late, Semi.” 

 

Semi ignores him and crawls over Daichi to straddle Hinata. His thighs are bare, warm to the touch. “Come on, shirt off.”

 

“It’s too late for this,” Kyoutani whines as Hinata complies, disentangling from Kyoutani and sitting up to tug his shirt off. 

 

Slowly, Semi unwraps Hinata, cold hands brushing over skin. Hinata sighs once the linen is finally gone. Air is finally able to fill his lungs completely. Semi presses on his bottom rib, causing Hinata to inhale sharply. 

 

Daichi asks, “How bad is it?” before resting his hand against Hinata’s back, tracing soothing circles. Kyoutani does the same on the other side. 

 

“Not too bad. Just, hurts when I move too much.”  _ Or when I move at all, or sleep, or breathe, or  _ exist. 

 

Semi climbs off of him, and heads back to his spot on the other side of Daichi. As soon as Hinata lays down, Kyoutani’s arms are back around his waist and chest, but not as tightly as before.

 

He falls asleep quickly after that.

 

…

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

Hinata almost drops his bowl into his lap, surprised by Kyoutani suddenly plopping down behind him, the blonde’s knee resting against his hip. Hinata was the first up in the morning, up and out as soon as he was able to smell breakfast cooking. He hadn’t expected anyone else for a while.

 

“Okay.”

 

Kyoutani starts to say something, but stops as soon as a pale shadow lands on them. Hinata looks up to see Washjio, his eyes harsh in the morning light. His clothes are neatly pressed, a feat that Hinata has yet to understand. 

 

“The Captain,” Washjio wrinkles his nose, “wishes to see you.”

 

Kyoutani’s knee presses against his back a bit harder for a millisecond, a comforting motion. 

 

Hinata can still feel the ghost of his touch as he follows Washjio.

 

…

 

The tent is silent when Hinata enters.

 

Washjio tugs the flap closed after Hinata, but the ginger never hears him walk away. Hinata does not want to be alone with Kageyama in this moment, but Washjio is the complete opposite of the comfort he wishes for. 

 

A few minutes pass, and neither Kageyama or Hinata speak. Hinata doesn’t even move, afraid of how Kageyama would react. Finally, the captain pushes back his chair and stands, walks around the desk to stand in front of Hinata. 

 

“The way you acted yesterday is inexcusable.” 

 

And that, that’s exactly what Hinata had been waiting for since Washjio was sent to fetch him. The captain’s face is stoic, all harsh angles in the soft light of the tent. He’s a monster, even if the General would kill to argue otherwise. 

 

The backhand comes out of nowhere, slapping Hinata hard enough to make him lose his breath. Before he can react or even register the pain, Kageyama’s other hand collides with the opposite cheek. 

 

He tastes blood; his teeth cut the inside of his mouth. He turns to spit of the blood, but Kageyama grips his jaw just as he begins to move, keeping his mouth shut. Hinata makes a noise of protest, eyes wide, but Kageyama won’t back down.

 

“You will  _ not  _ disrespect me like this, recruit,” the captain whispers lowly, deadly. “Understand?”

 

Hinata yanks Kageyama’s hand off of his mouth, before spitting out the blood that had been collecting in his mouth. It lands on the floor, between Kageyama’s feet. Hinata won’t be  _ disrespected  _ either; fuck what the Captain thinks.

 

Or, don’t fuck what the Captain thinks, because the taller man is knocking him down onto the floor, throwing punches as hard and as fast as he can. It takes Hinata back to that night a few weeks ago, when he had finally beaten Kageyama in sparring practice. Now, he understands what the Captain meant. Winning once, it didn’t mean a thing. All he can feel is Kageyama’s hits, the blood flowing from his lips and nose. He’s lightheaded, dizzy as he stares up at the top of the tent. 

 

“You can come back in,” Kageyama finally says as he stands, still over Hinata.

 

“I do hope you wipe the blood up,” Washjio says as soon as he’s inside. “It’s disgusting.”

 

Hinata almost cracks a smile to that, but his face hurts too much to smile. 

 

“Find someone to do it then,” Kageyama replies. “But, find someone to drag him to the common area first.”

 

He knows he should be scared, nervous of what to come, but he can’t find the energy to do it. Everything around him is slowing down, smearing it like ink until he can no longer put two and two together. 

 

“Why?” 

 

“My fa - the General always told me the best way to control your troops is to make one of them an example. Hinata’s perfect for that.”

 

…

 

He’s kneeling on the ground. The grass is damp this close to the stream, leaving Hinata’s pants muddy. Washjio asked the captain if he wanted the blindfold  _ this time,  _ like this was something that happened on a regular basis. At first, Hinata had been happy when Kageyama said no to that, but now, when the entire battalion is staring at him, the ginger wishes Kageyama had said yes.

 

Daichi, along with Kyoutani and Semi, are watching him from the very back. Hinata doesn’t think he would have noticed them if Kyoutani didn’t have to be physically restrained by the other two. Semi, even though he doesn't move forward, has anger written all over his face.

 

Kageyama touches the back of Hinata’s neck and the tip of his chin, tilting his head up towards the sky. Clouds slowly drift across a gray sky; it’s going to rain soon. Hinata hopes the raindrops won’t be too cold, too much like ice. He hopes it won’t stop until this - whatever it is - is finished. 

 

The captain roughly shoves a gag into his mouth, just a fabric scrap. It’s red, and bitter, like it’s been shoved in one hundred other people’s mouths before him. Washjio hands him something, a riding crop, Hinata suspects, from what little he can see out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Obedience is important,” Kageyama says, loud enough to be heard by the entire battalion. “Emperor Takeda will not accept anything less, and neither will I. Failure to comply and the tendency to act out against superiors does nothing to benefit anyone, and if you choose to act this way, no one will suffer expect for you.”

 

Kageyama bends at the waist, so that his mouth is hovering beside Hinata’s ear. “Take off your shirt,” he whispers, breath hot on Hinata’s neck. 

 

Hinata looks out into the crowd, eyes wide. His lock onto Daichi’s, panicking. He wants to say something -  _ I’m sorry I love you please protect them  _ \- but instead, he just swallows hard to dissipate the block in his throat, before untying his belt with shaking fingers. He can barely see, eyes filling with tears as he chokes around the gag. 

 

It’s over, as soon as the shirt falls to the ground.

 

Everything is quiet for a millisecond, a split second. Everyone stops breathing. When the riding crop slips out of Kageyama’s hand and hits the grass, all hell breaks lose. 

 

Once the screaming starts, the calls for blood, Hinata can’t look Kyoutani, Semi, or Daichi in the eyes. He’s looking back at the sky, the gray clouds and pale light. The sun is nowhere to be seen.

 

“It’s a girl!” Washjio whispers, but neither he nor Kageyama move. “In the Karasuno army…”

 

“I’m not a girl,” Hinata spits out around the rag, so it comes out more like  _ m na a hurl! _

 

Kageyama rips the gag out of his mouth and grips his jaw. Choking, Hinata has no option but to look at him. His hands are cold where they touch Hinata’s skin.

 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” the captain asks, not letting go, never loosening his grip for even an instance. 

 

“I didn’t want my grandfather to die.”

 

“He would have survived if you had known your place,” Kageyama scoffs. “Get her out of her. Leave her in the woods if you want to, just don’t kill her. Hopefully, a mountain lion will find her satisfying.” 

 

Before anyone can respond, either in agreement or anger, Kageyama punches Hinata’s chin as hard as he can, knocking him out instantly. 

… 

… 

**Author's Note:**

> if you got here, thank you so much???? like honestly  
> there's one more chapter (or 2 who knows) and i'll try to get it up soon but I messed my shoulder up at volleyball and typing is super painful and I'm also trying to write a chapter of my bokuaka fic so :/
> 
> hopefully I'll see you around!!


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